Writing about mother, telling about mother, no paper, pen and words can convey. Mother is great in a simple, honest form.
"I go through my whole human life
Also not all the words of mother's lullaby..."
(Nguyen Duy)
Who in life has not heard these heart-wrenching verses, and then absentmindedly remembered their mother, filled with love for their mother, wanting to cry.
Sweet lullaby of mother. Illustration photo Internet.
1. Mom, is there anything in this world more sacred, closer, warmer than a mother's love? Is there anyone who works harder, is more diligent, and makes more sacrifices than a mother? Who can replace a mother in fulfilling all those duties: carrying a living being for 9 months and 10 days, giving birth, taking care of, and educating her child through the endless years of joy and sadness?
Writing about mother, telling about mother, no pen or words can convey it all. Mother is great in a simple, honest form. The wings of the stork, the wings of the stork hanging on the hammock, singing at both ends of the song, swaying from summer to autumn, going through the cold winter nights "mother lies in the wet place, child rolls in the dry place" to holding the hand to teach the child to take the first steps in life, feeding each spoonful of rice, each spoonful of porridge, comforting the pain when the child stumbles...
Mom, the first word I called out when I was a toddler, was Mom. When I grew up and went far away, struggling with the storms of life, through all the joys and sorrows, happiness and pain, the first person I thought of and called out was Mom. Mom - I never fully understood the meaning of that word, it was so simple, but every time I called out, I felt excited and overwhelmed. Every time I came home to visit, I called out to Mom loudly from the end of the alley; when I wanted to whisper something, I also whispered in her ear, and when Mom was no longer around, I became hoarse and startled, calling out over and over again... Mom!
Mom, why haven’t you thought about yourself, even just taking a few minutes to relax? You’re always so busy, from housework to neighborhood and family matters. After the market, you roll up your shirt and pants to take care of the fields and gardens. When the children are fast asleep, you’re still diligently working with the sound of milling, pounding, sewing at night…
2. The sun and rain carelessly cover the mother's life, giving her child a fresh figure. Giving her child a new shirt, mother accepts for herself a worn-out shirt after countless years. Mother often eats slowly at meals to always be the last one left, also because she wants to give her husband and children the best food. Mother is silent, sparing with words, but radiates a magical shade so that just thinking about it, within her child there is already a green canopy protecting her.
Mother is silent, few words but radiates magical shade... Illustrative photo from Internet.
I am very scared every time my mother cries. It is at the old Tet market when I witnessed the tears of a poor mother who could not buy new clothes for her child. It is when my mother had to ask for old books for her child to study every time school started and then tried her best to comfort and console her child. It is when I was too busy playing or made mistakes that made my mother feel pained…
Mother is kind and considerate, but she hides her own lack of money. Every time I go to school far from home, she gives me the money she has saved, carefully wrapping this and that gift for me to take with me, just because she is worried that I will lack something. Mother, how can I repay all the love you have given me in this life?
Even though I know that one day I will no longer have my mother in this world. I have prepared myself for that, but I still cannot avoid the pain and shock. One year, two years, three years… and many years later, my mother has turned into a white cloud and returned to heaven, but I have not had a single day of remembrance. I owe my mother my whole life and will never be able to repay her. Like my mother’s lullaby, I can never go through it all and understand it all in my childhood. In a faraway place, I wonder if my mother can still hear me calling: “Mom, I am old now/ I sit and miss you, crying like a child…” (Tran Tien).
Ngo The Lam
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